I am a very inward focused person. Always dreaming.
I enjoy being a casual observer. Being alone does not bother me.
In solitude I often find release and relief. An opportunity to reflect on the past.
Sometimes I still daydream of my childhood in Chile.
The feeling of the ocean wind on my skin.
The sound of rain on the tin roofs of the humble homes.
The fog covering the harbor during the winter months.
The warmth of my mother’s skin against mine.
My dad’s laughter and storytelling.
The trauma of seeing violence at home. A broken home.
Remembering how our smiles were slowly replaced by somberness.
Yet much love between silences. So many mixed memories.
I knew from a young age that I was gay. I just did not have a name for it.
During this coming-of-age phase, I was confronted with many questions.
I began to hear voices in my head. That I was broken, that there was something wrong with me, that I could never be lovable. All residue from trauma.
I used to wonder why anyone would ever be attracted to me? Not seeing those qualities, myself.
As I grew into a sexual person, I began to push myself to be more “social”, go out more, meet others, and eventually have sex. After the first time, I began to feel an impulse for more sex. It was a hunger I could not satisfy, almost like an addiction.
The need to be penetrated.
The need to feel wanted.
The need to be dominated.
The need to feel a man in me.
For the first time I had felt adequate to someone, felt wanted, and it was addictive. For the first time I had heard “you are beautiful”.
Today I understand that this impulse was deeply rooted in my insecurity. It was a long time ago and over the years I developed a healthy relationship to my self-image, others, and also sex.
Today I don’t feel the impulse to be more “social” or be someone I am not. I am comfortable with my need for solitude. My need to create an inner world. Yet from the same place, I feel the same sexual energy, but not fill a void or emptiness.
I feel safe in my own skin and I know that I am lovable.
